


phantom guilt

by madburymangler



Series: Phantom Touch [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Euostrath's Descent
Genre: Character Study, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Guilt, Love, Original Character(s), Original Slash, Original Universe, Other, Reincarnation, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28776753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madburymangler/pseuds/madburymangler
Summary: nyleein is no better than an animal, but he wants to be
Relationships: Iketasos/Nyleein
Series: Phantom Touch [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108832
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	phantom guilt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aconitumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aconitumi/gifts).



> Iketasos belongs to @larkspureee on Twitter, and Nyleein to her DM, Danny

For an animal, there is no shame in bowing down to base instincts. To hunt, to seek, to slaver over a fresh kill, to seek a warm body to mate with... Such are the urges of predators. Few with any sense would ask such beasts to restrain themselves. They are what they were made to be through evolution and the teachings of the old and wise of their pack, those fortunate enough to have weathered many winters.

No, none would ask a snow-white wolf to rise above that which makes it snap at danger and seek what it craves.

It is what Nyleein asks of himself.

After all, though he may not hold much of a positive opinion of himself, especially after last night's dinner, it's a biological truth that he should possess higher reasoning than an animal, even if it is an apex predator. That makes these broken bonds of self-confinement _his_ fault and nothing else's, and though another might have flinched away from the guilt that induces, he relishes in it with all the masochism of a penitent with a hundred crimes to his name.

If he hasn't gotten there yet, he's certain it must be close.

Restraint. It's something that's taken decades to learn and centuries to perfect. What separates man from beast is that, and that alone. It's no wonder he loathes his own actions when this is what results from them.

At least he can take comfort in accepting responsibility. It would be easy to blame Iketasos, all coy glances and smug grins, or if not easy, then relieving to put this burden of blame on someone else's shoulders. Still, guilt is an old friend, and Nyleein would do no credit to the love between them if he did not recognize his own shortcomings. Blame is a poor bedmate and an even worse companion in the confines of his heart.

His lunch today is dry and tasteless on his tongue.

It's shrimp again, this time bold and flavorful with rich sauces and broths to accompany the bevy of seafood. Normally he would indulge with relish and let thoughts of the phantom cloud his mind in a most delightful haze, but now these rogue memories paralyze him, sicken him with the brand of the unworthy that shines so clearly from the unwanted remembrances of last night's meal.

_I don't understand how you've come to make a mess of me._

Oh, but he knows all too well how this had happened. Perhaps this had been the first time he'd allowed such infernal feelings to carry him away and sweep him into such sinful depths, but it had not been the first time he'd felt them stirring, scratching at the animal hindbrain, clawing for the chance to do the same to Iketasos.

_Or maybe I was already just like that._

Yes, when it comes to Iketasos, Nyleein has no choice but to play the supplicant, praying for redemption at the hands of one who doesn't even know what he begs forgiveness for.

And if they did know? If they had the wealth of past lives at their disposal to draw from and rifle through to spot all of his many flaws, would they still deign to lay their healing hands upon them?

Distantly, he realizes he has the arm of his chair gripped tightly in his free hand, the wood protesting beneath his iron grip, while his food has stalled somewhere between his plate and his mouth.

_I love you._

Are these words meant to be absolution? To serve as the vessel of his salvation? Or do they damn him to a further eternity with the many sins he cannot yet confess? After all, what is a relationship but a mutual exchange of trust?

No matter what Iketasos might think, they cannot trust him. Oh, he would not knowingly harm them, of course; no matter how lowly he thinks of himself, he knows his own heart, and certain wolves mate for life.

Even his own secrets cannot undo that.

Still, this goes far beyond the usual sort of secret that a lover might keep. The knowledge of Sk- of _her_ fate alone burns brightly in his veins, not to mention so many answers to the questions he knows the phantom has.

Knowing that he physically _can't_ confess, can't receive that most glorious of sacraments and come away washed anew, doesn't help. What right does he have to carry on the way he does, lusting after the one pleasure he should deny himself above all others, much less acting upon that wanton urge?

He is not hungry. He continues to eat.

_It seems like you hunger for a forever._

Transubstantiation at its finest.

With every bite of succulent flesh, every sip of sweet nectar, he craves the body and the blood and the relief that comes with knowing they are his to consume, to cherish, and loathes this dependency he tells himself he's only recently developed.

It is, of course, a lie.

 _Fuck,_ who has he become? The tines of his fork stab viciously at his plate, spearing shrimp and myriad greens and causing the metal to screech in unholy harmony. It's fitting, of course, because at the rate he's going, he will never hear the choirs of the heavens above.

 _But not only that, I'm_ already _trying to be with you forever._

What a miserable fucking job he's doing of that.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/akschoene)


End file.
